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Philosophy of the Small

Philosophy of the Small
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What I can do — I will —
Though it be little as a Daffodil —
That I cannot — must be
Unknown to possibility —

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #361 / Franklin #641 / composed ca. 1862-3)
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Will there really be a “Morning”?
Is there such a thing as “Day”?
Could I see it from the mountains
If I were as tall as they?

Has it feet like Water lilies?
Has it feathers like a Bird?
Is it brought from famous countries
Of which I have never heard?

Oh some Scholar! Oh some Sailor!
Oh some Wise Men from the skies!
Please to tell a little Pilgrim
Where the place called “Morning” lies!

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #101 / Franklin #148 / composed ca. 1860)
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Adrift! A little boat adrift!
And night is coming down!
Will no one guide a little boat
Unto the nearest town?

So Sailors say — on yesterday —
Just as the dusk was brown
One little boat gave up its strife
And gurgled down and down.

So angels say — on yesterday —
Just as the dawn was red
One little boat — o’erspent with gales —
Retrimmed its masts — redecked its sails —
And shot — exultant on!

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #30 / Franklin #6 / composed ca. 1858)
___ ___ ___
I went to Heaven —
‘Twas a small Town —
Lit — with a Ruby —
Lathed — with Down

Stiller — than the fields
At the full Dew —
Beautiful — as Pictures —
No Man drew.
People — like the Moth —
Of Mechlin — frames —
Duties — of Gossamer —
And Eider — names —
Almost — contented —
I — could be —
‘Mong such unique
Society —

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #374 / Franklin #577 / composed ca. 1862-3)
___ ___ ___
It was given to me by the Gods —
When I was a little Girl —
They given us Presents most — you know —
When we are new — and small.
I kept it in my Hand —
I never put it down —
I did not dare to eat — or sleep —
For fear it would be gone —
I heard such words as “Rich” —
When hurrying to school —
From lips at Corners of the Streets —
And wrestled with a smile.
Rich! ‘Twas Myself — was rich —
To take the name of Gold —
And Gold to own — in solid Bars —
The Difference — made me bold —

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #454 / Franklin #455 / composed ca. 1862-3)
___ ___ ___
His Feet are shod with Gauze —
His Helmet, is of Gold,
His Breast, a Single Onyx
With Chrysophrase, inlaid.

His Labor is a Chant —
His Idleness — a Tune —
Oh, for a Bee’s experience
Of Clovers, and of Noon!

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #916 / Franklin #979 / composed ca. 1865)
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The incidents of love
Are more than its Events —
Investment’s best Expositor
Is the minute Per Cents —

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #1248 / Franklin #1172 / composed ca. 1870)
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There is no Frigate like a Book
To take us Lands away
Nor any Coursers like a Page
Of prancing Poetry —
This Travers may the poorest take
Without oppress of Toll —
How frugal is the Chariot
That bears the Human soul.

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #1263 / Franklin #1286 / composed ca. 1873)
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What tenements of clover
Are fitting for the bee,
What edifices azure
For butterflies and me —
What residences nimble
Arise and evanesce
Without a rhythmic rumor
Or an assaulting guess.

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #1338 / Franklin #1358 / composed ca. 1875)
___ ___ ___
How happy is the little Stone
That rambles in the Road alone,
And doesn’t care about Careers
And Exigencies never fears —
Whose Coat of elemental Brown
A passing Universe put on,
And independent as the Sun
Associates or glows alone,
Fulfilling absolute Decree
In casual simplicity —

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #1510 / Franklin #1570 / composed ca. 1881-82)
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The morns are meeker than they were —
The nuts are getting brown —
The berry’s cheek is plumper —
The Rose is out of town.

The Maple wears a gayer scarf —
The field a scarlet gown —
Lest I should be old fashioned
I’ll put a trinket on.

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #12 / Franklin #32 / composed 1858)
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Society for me my misery
Since Gift of Thee —

Emily Dickinson (Johnson #1534 / Franklin #1195 / composed 1871)
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edited & photo by earlywomenmasters.net
a tribute to Dickinson only (no comments, thanks)